


Plastic Castle

by Anonymous



Series: tuesnight: the eighth day of the week [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character keeps dying but it doesn't stick, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Peter’s not sure about the specifics, and if he’s honest he doesn’t actually care all that much about the how or the why. Doctor Banner says something temporal paradoxes, and Doctor Strange just sort of rolls his eyes and acts like the whole thing should’ve been obvious.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: tuesnight: the eighth day of the week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713367
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos, is this thing (an)on?





	Plastic Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesnight/gifts).



The first time it happens, Peter is devastated. He’s not sure how long he spends on that battlefield, wrapped up in the suit Mr. Stark made for him, sobbing.

He’s not the only one. There’s a whole battlefield of people, most of them in various states of shock. Mrs. Potts is there, and so is Colonel Rhodes, and Captain America too. Every hero he’s ever heard of is there, actually, and it seems inconceivable that with this many people and this much raw power assembled together that they can’t just… fix it.

But Mr. Stark’s eyes stay empty, none of the glint and warmth that Peter was so used to seeing there, until Colonel Rhodes kneels down and reaches out to close them gently.

They hold a funeral four days later.

Peter gets to meet Morgan, which is both a shock and a delight, like some part of Mr. Stark is living on. She looks at Peter with a skeptical expression.

“Are you really Spider-Man?”

“Uh, yes?”

She looks at him for another beat, considering. “Okay.”

Peter’s not sure what that means, but little by little she warms up to him. 

Probably because he lets her wear one of his web shooters and shoot it all over the yard like it’s silly string. Happy watches the chaos unfold from a safe distance, arms crossed. Peter is pretty sure he’s going to get yelled at later, that is until Morgan gets him square in the jaw with a web and runs away giggling. 

It’s not much of a laugh, but it’s something, and Peter can see the expression on Happy’s face when he hears it - probably a mirror of his own.

Playing around with Morgan is a nice break, but the rest of the funeral is pretty tough. Peter thinks at some point these things should get easier, shouldn’t they, the more practice you’ve had at it? But they don’t.

* * *

The thing is, it doesn’t stick.

* * *

Peter’s not sure about the specifics, and if he’s honest he doesn’t actually care all that much about the how or the why. 

Doctor Banner says something temporal paradoxes, and Doctor Strange just sort of rolls his eyes and acts like the whole thing should’ve been obvious. 

But Mr. Stark is _alive_. 

He’s a little worse for wear, maybe; laid out in a hospital bed, a pale white tangle of scars etched up his arm and spreading out across half his chest. But alive nonetheless.

* * *

“Oscorp, really? I leave for five minutes and you take up with _Oscorp?_ ”

Peter gapes.

They’ve already done the whole oh-my-god-you’re-alive-again reunion thing, and Mr. Stark had hugged Peter just the same way he had on the battlefield, except it was approximately eleven billion times better without the suits between them.

Still though, he hadn’t expected their first real conversation after that to start like this.

“You didn’t leave for five minutes, Mr. Stark. You were… you know. Gone.”

“Dead? It’s okay, you can say it. I try not to get offended by statements of fact.”

“Well, yeah. You were dead. And Oscorp is doing some really interesting research into - ”

Mr. Stark makes a face, waving a hand around dismissively. “Whatever Oscorp was doing research into you’ve could’ve done on your own here at SI, and done it better. And kept control of how that research got used, which I’m guessing with Oscorp you can’t.” He pauses. “Can you?”

“I... had to sign an intellectual property and confidentiality agreement.”

“Exactly. So there we go.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Mmm, pretty sure it is. Or how about this, we let bygones be bygones and both pretend like your little flirtation with betrayal didn’t happen, and you come back to intern for me. All is forgiven.”

Peter _could_ go back to interning at SI, now that Mr. Stark is back. He’d tried to make a go of it, before, but sitting in that lab alone - the lab that he and Mr. Stark had spent so much time in together, that hadn’t been something Peter had been able to face, week after week.

But Mr. Stark is back, _really_ back. Peter grins. He almost can’t believe it. 

He doesn’t go back to work for SI though, much to Mr. Stark's chagrin.

* * *

“FRI, I thought you're supposed to give me a heads up when there’s a corporate spy in my lab.”

“I’m not spy,” Peter objects, rolling his eyes. “You should be nicer to me, I brought you sandwiches from JoJu’s.”

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows shoot upwards. 

“Gimme.”

Peter sets the bag down on the table between them and they both dig in. Pepper has Morgan this week, so they can eat in the lab without feeling like they’re both setting a bad example for her.

“So, how’s Norman?” Mr. Stark asks.

“I don’t work with Mr. Osborn. I see him every once in a while though. He seems fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Kinda stressed lately, I guess. There’s some kind project deadline stuff going on.”

“Oh?”

Peter takes another bite of his bulgogi banh mi, chewing slowly and swallowing before he answers. “You know corporate espionage goes both ways, right?”

“I had no idea.”

Peter is not moved in the least by the mock innocent expression. He knows better.

* * *

“You’re not telling it right,” Morgan interrupts, her entire demeanor broadcasting disappointment.

"O-okay, what am I getting wrong?“ Peter asks.

He’s pretty sure he remembers how he took down the Manfredi crime family, and is a lot less sure about how Morgan would know anything about it, but he’s also learned the hard way by now that arguing facts with a five year old tends to end with both of them upset and no one feeling super great about it.

“There were _ten_ bad guys, and Spider-Man had to save the fishes!”

 _The fishes?_ Peter shoots a glance over at Mr. Stark for an assist, but all Mr. Stark gives him is a subtle shrug.

The fish in the tank at the restaurant?

“Of course Spider-Man protected the fish,” Mr. Stark assures her. “He webbed up all the bad guys, and then he picked up that big fish tank and carried it down the street to a nice family that loved fish.”

Peter nods along. He had done no such thing. 

He’s pretty sure it would’ve qualified as theft, if not also interfering with a crime scene - as if the Daily Bugle needed any more ammunition against him. But Peter is absolutely not going to tell Morgan that. 

“Yep. The fish all lived happily ever after,” Peter says. _Wherever they are_ , he doesn’t add.

Oh god, he hopes that’s true. What if with everyone arrested, no one came by to feed the fish? What if Peter had unthinkingly left the fish there to die?

Morgan seems to accept his assurances at face value, and he and Mr. Stark wish her goodnight before ducking out of the room.

Mr. Stark stops in the hallway, looking at Peter. “You’re freaking out about the fish, aren’t you?”

“...No.”

“Liar.”

“Why are you telling her bedtime stories about the mafia, anyway?”

“Aw, come on, it’s not a story about the mafia, it’s a story about Spider-Man saving some fish. It’s a great story. She loves that story, why do you think she asked you to tell it tonight?”

Peter has to wonder how Morgan’s other bedtime stories must go, if that one was one of her favorites. He’s almost afraid to ask.

* * *

The second time it happens is just random, to the point where Peter has to remind himself that it wasn’t some kind of odd fever dream when he thinks about it, later. 

“You’re kidding, right? A _smoothie_?” Mr. Stark asks, apparently remembering nothing of what Peter has mentally dubbed 'the incident.'

“Can we not talk about it?”

“I need at least some level of detail here. I don’t need a whole thesis, just gimme the broad strokes.”

“You were using one of those reusable metal straws. And you sorta, uh,” Peter swallows, the moment etched into his memory, “you sort of tripped?”

Peter’s not sure how much more he can stand to explain. He doesn't especially want to explain how he knows that a metal straw, given just the right angle and velocity, is capable of punching a hole through someone's brain stem.

Mr. Stark stares at him. 

“You’re right. Let’s never speak of this again.”

Peter nods gratefully, and resolves to steal all of the metal straws the second Mr. Stark isn’t looking.

* * *

Peter isn't around for the third time. He only finds out about it because Happy mentions Mr. Stark having 'one of his weird accidents' when Peter calls to check in on hitching a ride up to the compound that weekend.

Mr. Stark seems perfectly fine when Peter sees him two days later. He doesn't mention anything about an accident, and Peter doesn't ask.

* * *

"You know what that is?" Mr. Stark prompts.

"A 3D printer?"

"A _3D printer_ , he says," Mr. Stark repeats, scoffing. "Like it's something you can pick up at BestBuy."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was an ego thing for you."

"Everything is an ego thing for me. That's beside the point. This is a one of a kind nanotech printing platform - the level of detail goes down as far as 50 nanometers. Do you know how small that is? Nevermind, of course you do."

Peter does. It is legitimately impressive, and Peter is very much tempted by the obvious attempt at a bribe. Mr. Stark still hasn't quite forgiven him for the Osborn internship thing.

"So what I'm hearing is that this is a printer that can print really really small," Peter says, "in three dimensions."

"You know what? I take it back. No internship for you. You and Osborn deserve each other. Brat."

* * *

The project deadline that has Mr. Osborn so concerned turns out to be some kind of DNA-altering serum that turns regular people into scaly green psycho murderers, so like, maybe a little light corporate espionage on Peter’s part would not have been amiss after all.

Hindsight is awesome like that.

Peter hears Mr. Stark’s head hit the pavement in perfect, agonizing clarity. He _caught_ him. He knows he did. But not quickly enough. Not any faster than the suit could activate; Mr. Stark’s or Peter’s.

Peter drops to the pavement next to him, standing there, numb.

Doctor Strange finds him like that however much time later, Peter isn’t sure. He hasn’t done anything. Hasn’t called anyone, hasn’t reached out to close Mr. Stark’s eyes the way Colonel Rhodes had, before.

“Come on,” Doctor Strange prods. He lifts his hands and Mr. Stark’s body starts to lift up from the pavement.

“Don’t - !” Peter starts to yell, terrified of moving him. He stops because he knows better. Moving him now won’t make a difference.

“We really shouldn’t do this on the sidewalk.”

Strange seems mostly annoyed by the inconvenience. Which is fine, Peter guesses, it’s not like Doctor Strange and Mr. Stark had ever really been that close. He’d expect a little bit more sympathy coming from a doctor though. Weren’t they supposed to get sensitivity training about bedside manner, or something?

Doctor Strange walks through the portal back to the Sanctum, Mr. Stark’s body floating along behind him. Peter follows them through, since he’s not sure what else to do.

“Is he - ?”

“Dead? Yes. For the moment,” Doctor Strange says.

“Okay, but... why?”

Doctor Strange steeples his hands, peering over them at Peter. “The universe strives towards balance.”

“No offense, but that sounds like the crap Thanos tried to say before we kicked his ass.”

“Not quite. Thanos sought to achieve his idea of balance in the snap of his fingers. The universe rejects such shortcuts.”

“Except it didn’t, then. Thanos snapped his fingers and a bunch of people died.”

“And then those people were returned, and Thanos’ army vanished.”

“Exactly! How is any of that balance, and what does that have to do with why Mr. Stark keeps coming back? ....he is coming back, right? That’s why you took us here?”

“Yes, he is. You’re still looking at all of this as if they’re separate events. Stark did his part to restore balance by creating the means to bring back the lost, and then disrupted it again by removing Thanos’ army from the board. The universe wants him alive, because the loss tips the scales too far in the direction of order, and it wants him dead, because the opposite is also true.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Strange raises an eyebrow. “You think Stark's life contributes to an orderly universe?”

On second thought, yeah, maybe not.

“So what, he’s just gonna keep dying?”

“And keep living, as well.”

“That sucks.”

“Not as much as the alternative would - to you, I would assume.”

Mr. Stark chooses that moment to groan, wincing and clutching at his head. He sits up on the couch, looking around the room.

“Someone wanna explain what’s going on?”

* * *

They do.

“So basically what I’m hearing here is that I’m invincible.”

“That is, in fact, the exact opposite of what I’ve said,” Doctor Strange says. Peter didn’t realize it was possible for him to look more irate than he already had. “You’re going to die. You’re going to _keep dying_. But you’ll come back.”

“Ergo death has no actual meaning. Ergo, invincible,” Mr. Stark responds.

Doctor Strange pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Do what you want.”

Peter and Mr. Stark find themselves back on the sidewalk. There’s still a smear of blood on the pavement that Peter refuses to look at straight on. Mr. Stark strolls by it without even noticing.

* * *

This probably goes without saying, but Peter quits his internship at Oscorp.

* * *

Two weeks later they’re testing out new repulsor tech in the lab, waiting for Happy to come by and drop Morgan off, when there’s a short in the prototype. Peter grabs Mr. Stark and webs them both out of the way just in time.

"Nicely done, kid," Mr. Stark says.

Happy walks in carrying Morgan barely a minute later, both of them goggling at the smoke and debris. 

“Why are you on the ceiling?” Morgan asks, always quick to cut to the point. Peter still hasn't let Mr. Stark go, and it's going to be at least another minute or two before he can force himself to. 

“We were just playing, honey,” Mr. Stark says.

“I wanna play!”

Happy eyes the two of them suspiciously. “Yeah? What’s the game called?”

Mr. Stark opens his mouth, but Peter beats him to the punch.

“Saving the fishes.”  
  



End file.
